


In Our Own Hands

by ienablu



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Multi, Post-Movie, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:08:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes two weeks for her first Enterprise visitor, two months to learn a new speciality, and even longer to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Own Hands

**Author's Note:**

> End quote taken from bells hooks, and thanks to playpraydie for the science and the beta.

They transfer her -- and what seems like half of the _Enterprise_ crew -- to Starfleet Medical in San Francisco. They should be able to get her through to the accelerated healing chamber, and have her leg good in two to three days, Dr. McCoy tells her, and it should be reassuring, but he's distant as he talks, and Carol is all too aware of where his thoughts are at.

She's put through the chamber, it’s not entirely painless, the Starfleet medical officers tell her it will take her five to six days, and then she's set in a private room.

Before the door closes, she sees a security officer posted outside her room.

It stings -- especially when the memory of the last time she saw a security detail ordered on a person is still too sharp in her mind -- and she turns to stare up at the ceiling.

She knows what they’ll say about her, what they’ll wonder. Carol Marcus, raised by Admiral Alexander Marcus. Her promotion to lieutenant, a year earlier than most of her peers, was met with suspicion -- they looked at her relationship to her father, not at her accomplishments, not at her own merits. She knew, back then, that it could have been worse. She knows, now, that it will be far worse than she can imagine. Every action upon the _Enterprise_ is going to be examined, her entire file is going to be scoured through for the briefest hint of her being involved with her father's treachery, she is going to be dragged through the mud.

She will suffer through what needs to be suffered though, and she will fight every moment she has to. She will not let them break her, and she will make it out stronger in the end.

 

\- -- -

 

Admiral Alice Rawlings enters her room the next day, followed by a commander she’s only ever seen in passing.

Carol remembers Rawlings from when she attended a luncheon with her father, back when her title was still Lieutenant Admiral Rawlings. The woman is stern, as all admirals are, but even when cocktails had made a few of the admirals more candid and amiable, she stayed professional. Carol had respected that, though now she is dreading being on the receiving end of her professionalism.

"Admiral," Carol greets, pulling herself up so she's sitting, and giving a salute.

"Lieutenant Carol Marcus," Rawlings greets. "We are still in the process of briefing the entirety of the _Enterprise_ crew. You are still on our schedule, and we fear it may be a few days before we can get around to you. At this time, though, we felt we should inform you that you are under suspicion." She seems to be waiting for some reaction from Carol, and when she gets none, she continues, "The late Admiral Alexander Marcus had no small degree of influence, and we have yet to determine the extent of his reach; such as whether or not you were aware of his plans, fully or in part."

Carol's throat tightens, and her heartbeat quickens. "Permission to speak, Admiral?" she asks, voice shaking.

"Granted, Lieutenant," she replies.

"For the record, I would like to state that I was suspicious of my... of Admiral Marcus' actions. Had I known his plans, I would _not_ have condoned them or gone along with any of his plans. I was on the _Enterprise_ \--"

"Under a false name, with a forged transfer," Rawlings interrupts, coolly. "Something we will be addressing in the course of your briefing. The consensus is that we do not believe you were not aware of his actions, but we will continue our investigations regardless -- I hope you will forgive us if we are or appear overly cautious."

Carol nods, not trusting herself to speak. Things are going better than they could be, but she still feels defensive, attacked, hurt.

"Until we are able to fully debrief you, you are not to speak regarding the actions or events upon the _Enterprise_ to anyone. Even the smallest leak of information may be detrimental to the investigation, and could be considered an act of treason. As such, you will not be granted permission to see any of the _Enterprise_ crew until you have been briefed. Is that understood, Lieutenant Marcus?"

Carol nods, again, and manages a tight, “Yes, Admiral.”

"We wish you a speedy recovery, and we will be in touch," Rawlings says, as she rises to her feet.

Carol salutes, and drops back onto her bed as soon as the door is closed.

 

\- -- -

 

Rawlings wonders how far her father's reach went.

Carol doesn't blame her, as she spent her brief time on the bridge of the _Vengeance_ amongst familiar faces wondering the same thing.

But for the first time, she wonders about the admirals who weren't on the bridge.

She can remember Admiral Barnett -- Richard, he had insisted she call him. On her seventh birthday, he had snuck her an extra piece of her birthday cake. When she had enrolled, Admiral Lui had engaged her in a long discussion about her future at Starfleet, and offered any assistance she might require. She went to Admiral Chandra during her second semester when she was unhappy with a professor's lax teaching method. She had Admiral Pike look over her dissertation. She had played with Admiral Archer’s beagle.

She knows all the admirals and captains in Starfleet, has talked to them all at least once, and knows half of them on a first name basis. All of them know her by first name. She's always treated them with respect and has always been treated with respect, and suddenly, that certainty is gone.

For the first time, she cries.

What she hopes will be a few tears, a pressure valve, quickly escalates, and soon she’s sobbing, too loud, too hard, and her heartbeat quickens too much, and then a doctor and a nurse are in the room, and she waves them off, just wanting to be alone (though her father’s dead and disgraced and it’s entirely possible she will be discharged from Starfleet and there will be plenty of time to be alone) and then she hears 'give her' and 'milligrams' and then her vision goes hazy, and she feels softer, and things fade to black.

 

\- -- -

 

Her mother comes in a day later.

Carol isn't sure whether she's happy about it or not. They've never had a close relationship. Her mother had loved her father, but she had loved London more. They talked, and it was perfectly civil, and sometimes even fun, but it was never in-depth, and they were never close.

Her mother sits herself down at the chair to Carol's right. "They were able to recover a body," she says, quietly to her hands. "The wake will be in two weeks. The event will be family only, we won't be opening it to the public. I hope that you will be well by then."

Carol doesn't reply, as her mother hasn't asked a question yet.

They sit for a few quiet moments, her mother's hands clasped tightly in her lap. Three days ago, Carol found out her father was a traitor, gained a comminuted fracture, and watched her father's death, and since she has found out that Starfleet is considering the possibility that her father's corruption spread to her; and yet, her mother looks as though she's the one who has been suffering. Carol understands it must have been difficult for her to be told that her husband was dead, and a traitor, but Carol wonders if the sedative from yesterday had any lingering emotional effects, because she finds she doesn’t care.

"Will you be coming?" her mother asks, finally.

"I don't know," Carol replies, keeping her voice as even as she can.

Her mother looks up at her, for the first time during the visit, and the first time in years. She looks so disappointed. "Carol, he was your _father_."

 _I'm ashamed to have you as a father_ , she had told him.

She still feels the same.

 

\- -- -

 

Carol thinks the sedative the doctor administered the other day has been added to the glass vials with her other medications. The sharp edges of her memories are dulled in her dreams, all that remains are dark shadows and glimpses of ghost white hands. She can sleep through the night, though, so she doesn't request to be taken off it.

 

\- -- -

 

All Starfleet officers' funerals are asked to be open to the public.

Carol has a nurse bring her a PADD, and in a quick search, she is able to confirm her suspicion: Alexander Marcus, in light of recent events, has been posthumously stripped of his title, and been demoted back to a commander.

He was a captain when she was born, and was promoted to Admiral on her sixth birthday. It was a celebration of his two greatest accomplishments, he had said.

The fact he was stripped of his rank makes Carol feel a pang of sadness, but represses it. She's preparing for her hearing, she cannot allow herself to feel any sorrow for her father -- for Commander Alexander Marcus, she tells herself. Commander Alexander Marcus, the head of Starfleet, that had betrayed his office, her crew mates, _her_.

 

\- -- -

 

It’s been the few days Rawlings estimated before a nurse comes in with her Starfleet dress uniform, and helps her into it, then dresses her leg in a bandage.

Carol would guess that the nurse should be inquiring about her health, updating her on how her knee is healing, but the nurses and doctors have all been chilly towards her. The _Enterprise_ employs the best of the best, as does Starfleet Medical. She doesn't doubt that at least one member of the medical staff has lost a friend.

The nurse leaves, and a different nameless commander enters, pushing a wheelchair.

She lowers herself in the wheelchair, though the commander is the one who pushes her through the hospital, down to the conference room that is being used for all the hearings.

In the hallway leading to it, there are Starfleet officers and ensigns, all in dress uniform. They're all whispering in low tones, though trying to look like they're not. Carol straightens up, and nods at the _Enterprise_ crew members who nod at her, and ignores the open gaping and dirty looks from the rest of the officers.

Her pulse quickens as she's pushed into the center of the room; it's the feeling she'd get walking into a mid-term, or the evening she spent defending her dissertation. The quiet waiting always makes her fingertips twitch, she's always preferred to get straight to business. She knows the answers, just needs the questions asked.

Admirals Rawlings, Barnett and Kormack are seated at a table in front of her, and Carol meets their gaze straight on.

"Please state your name for the record," Rawlings instructs.

"Lieutenant Carol Marcus."

Rawlings nods. “Now, could you please recount the events leading up to your position on the starship _USS Enterprise_ , and the events that occurred during your time on the ship?”

She keeps her head high, posture straight, voice clear, and does as instructed. She remembers everything that happened; she knows what she did wrong, takes responsibility for for it, but more than that, she knows what she did right. She gives them all the detail they want, only going into bare basics about then-Admiral Marcus' death, and waits for them to ask their questions.

 

\- -- -

 

She spends that night, the next day, and the night after continuing to relive the experience all over again.

The edges are blurred, and the memory of stifling helplessness becomes more distant with each repetition.

 

\- -- -

 

After that, it’s quiet.

It takes another few days to be visited by her first guest from the _Enterprise_. She tells herself that she's not insulted or hurt -- she has no reason to be, she didn't have the time to form any long standing bonds.

So when Dr. McCoy walks in, she asks, "How's Captain Kirk? Has he recovered?"

McCoy winces.

"Is he...?" Carol starts, heart clenching.

"He's fine," he assures her, coming over and sitting next to her bed. "He finally woke up this morning. I just... I'm sorry I didn't come earlier."

"It's fine, Dr. McCoy."

He nods, and wets his lips. "I'm off the clock, you can just call me Leonard."

She nods in reply.

After a few moments, he asks, "How's the knee?"

"Fine," she repeats, tighter than the last time.

He pays it no mind, waving towards it. "Mind if I...?"

McCoy is one of the finest medical commanders in the field, and he has been anything but cold with her, so she nods.

He gets up, and moves to the other side of the bed. He pushes the sheet away, and starts running his hand over her knee, gently applying pressure as he moves around the injury.

"Still off the clock?" she asks. She wishes she could feel embarrassed that she hasn't shaved in longer than she can remember, and the hair on her legs is prickly. But she doesn't care, not right now, and she guesses that McCoy doesn't care either.

He snorts, and grumbles something about two goddamn weeks to himself. As he puts pressure on the side of her knee, right above where it had been injured, she winces, and he frowns. “How long did they estimate this would take to heal after you went through the healing chamber?”

“Six to seven days.”

His frown deepens. He doesn’t withdraw his hand, but there’s no pressure on her knee, just the warmth of his touch. “They should have been able to have you healed in three days.”

“They probably didn't want me mobile,” she tells him, blunt.

He sighs, and pulls his hand away to rub over his face. “I’m not looking forward to Jim’s debriefing -- when he finds out they’ve suspected you as in on your old man's plans, he’s gonna be madder than a wet hen in a tote sack.”

Carol gives out a snort at the comparison, then covers her mouth. "Sorry," she says.

"Don't be," he says, just as sounding amused as she is. Then he sobers, and shakes his head. "I'm the one who should be apologizing -- I should have come earlier."

“You wouldn’t’ve been able to,” she replies. It's not entirely true, but, to her relief, he doesn't call her on it.

He just moves his hand down past the injury, and gives her leg a light squeeze. “I’m glad you’re healing, though,” he tells her. “If you need anything, any second opinion, or you don't like how you're being treated, I've got my comm on me. I'm going to be checking in on the rest of the crew, but I'll stop by as soon as I can."

 

\- -- -

 

She doesn't expect any more visitors, so she spends her time on her PADD. The security detail has left, but she estimates her chances of being re-assigned to the _Enterprise_ are low -- she'll probably be put on probation, and be assigned back to a classroom. She's always preferred being a student to being a teacher, and she really would like to find a different applied physics field to specialize in.

She's dozed off -- nanobiotechnology is interesting enough, but the writing is dry and dense -- when she hears a knock at the door. She blinks awake, and looks up.

“Dr. Marcus.”

Carol feels something loosen in her chest. She had been in the medbay, she had seen them bring in the white bag. And now, seeing him alive, upright, smiling, makes it easier to breath. "Captain Kirk," she greets, respectfully.

He comes over, and opens his arms in an offer for a hug. It’s at an awkward angle, since she’s still in the bed, but it’s nice.

“How’s the leg?” he asks, pulling back.

"It's fine."

"Walking alright?" he asks.

"I haven't, yet," she says, as it finally sinks in. The thought hits her, ugly, that the last time she walked was when Commander Marcus was still alive.

Kirk just stands back up, and pushes the chair back, and holds out a hand.

Carol sets her bare feet down on the cool tile, and shivers.

Her knee twinges in pain, but she takes a few tentative steps, Kirk's hand on her elbow. He slowly walks her from one end of the room to the other, before his comm chirps at him. His face pinches, before he shoots her an apologetic grin. "I'll stop by again when I can," he tells her, and Carol almost thinks he's telling the truth.

 

\- -- -

 

“Dr. Marcus.”

Carol is really starting to hate _Marcus_ , but, as her mother has cut any communication after Carol's absence at the wake, she doesn’t know if she wants to be _Wallace_ either.

A woman walks in, seeming around Carol's age, a PADD held in front of her. She's a commander, wearing her dress uniform, though she doesn't look at Carol with the suspicion she's used to seeing from everyone else.

"I am Dr. Elizabeth Dehner," she introduces. "I am one of the chief psychologists assigned to the _USS Enterprise_. Before anyone can be re-assigned to the ship, we are conducting psychological exams, to make sure the crew is properly adjusting to the circumstances. Although I will discuss the results of our meeting with other psychologists, and as such cannot guarantee complete confidentiality, we do ask for your honesty and cooperation. Do you have any questions, before we begin?"

Carol nods. "Does this mean I will be returning to my station on the _Enterprise_?"

"In light of you never actually being transferred there, you will actually be given a station on the _Enterprise_ , which I suppose is close enough to your initial query. Does this make you happy?"

"Yes," Carol replies.

"Why?" Dr. Dehner asks, as she sits down at Carol's side.

Carol enjoys answering questions, and excels at it, but only when she's had ample time to prepare for them. It's why exams always went well for her, but therapy sessions after teenaged rebellions did not.

But if it means going back on the _Enterprise_ , she'll manage. She describes how Captain Kirk is the most admirable member of Starfleet she has encountered, and how he and Dr. McCoy have been the only two to show her any kindness. Prompted, she continues to describe her relationship with Commander Marcus, and how she felt when she watched his transmission.

Dr. Dehner asks about witnessing Commander Marcus' death. By now, the memory has blurred so far all she remembers is a shadowed bridge and ghost white hands.

Carol doesn't keep track of the time, just falls into the easy pattern of questions and answers.

"I believe that concludes our session," Dr. Dehner announces, what feels like minutes later.

Carefully, Carol asks, “If I may ask what your conclusion so far is...?”

Dr. Dehner takes a moment to consider, before she says, "I think you are still healing from what was a traumatic event, but such lingering effects are to be expected. We will be conducting further interviews, until the _USS Enterprise_ is cleared for duty, with you and other members of the crew. Although I don't have the official capacity to tell you so, it is in my professional opinion that you are fit to be stationed on the _USS Enterprise_."

Once she's alone, Carol sighs out in relief. And, for what feels like the first time in a long time, she smiles.

 

\- -- -

 

"I believe you have been cleared to leave Medical," Rawlings says, the next day, getting straight to business, though there is a required debriefing that you must attend before we can clear you to leave Starfleet facilities."

Carol had inferred as much, and she nods.

"You have been removed from your probation," Rawlings continues. "Your status as lieutenant has been re-instated, and you have orders to report to the _USS Enterprise_ once it is cleared for action."

Carol takes the PADD with a steady hand, though her heart is beating wildly in her chest. "Thank you," she says to the PADD, unable to keep the tears from her eyes as she signs off on her orders.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, for all your excellent work during what must have been a difficult time for you."

Carol looks up at her, and blinks hard. "Thank you," she repeats, as she hands the PADD back over.

"How is your leg?" Rawlings asks, not standing up, not yet.

"It's fine," Carol tells her, and immediately regrets it afterwards. First thing after being reinstated, and she's being dishonest to one of her superiors. "It feels sore, sometimes, but..."

Rawlings nods, and stands up at that. "I hope it continues to heal," she tells her. Slowly, she continues, "And I hope you are able to continue your excellent work during any further difficulty."

Carol nods.

 

\- -- -

 

The debriefing takes place in the same conference room. Admiral Kormack tells hers the official story of what happened on the _Enterprise_ \-- it follows what happened, with the alteration of John Harrison's true identity, and the extent of Captain Kirk's indisposition.

After she has sufficiently described the story back, she gives a salute.

She's not dismissed, though, and she lowers her hand. "Admiral?" she asks.

"Where are you planning on going while the _Enterprise_ is under repair, Lieutenant?"

"The Riverside Shipyard, sir. I believe that some of the crew have been offering their services to assist in the _Enterprise_ 's repairs, and I would like to offer any assistance I can provide."

"Would you like a security escort to the shuttles?"

Carol frowns. "Do you think I need one?"

"I don't think you are in any danger," he tells her, "but the press has been camped outside of the building for the past month, and they've been badgering everyone who comes in and out. Security escorts have been making it easier to keep the press at bay, and with you, I think it would be an advantage."

She doesn't want to think about it too much. "I defer to your opinion," Carol tells him.

 

\- -- -

 

She's glad she did, twenty minutes later. She has two security officers, both thankfully from the _Enterprise_ , walking in front of her. The press reaction is what she expected -- a near mob of reporters, all shouting questions at her. _How does it feel_ and _did you know_ and the constant yells of names of _Carol_ and _Lieutenant Marcus_ and _Doctor Marcus_ and _Admiral Marcus_ and _Commander Marcus_ and _John Harrison_ and Carol just keeps her head high and keeps walking.

She gets to a hovercar, which drives her to the shuttle bay, and then one of the security officers has a duffel bag in hand (the one she checked in to the _Enterprise_ and has been passed around, judging by how battered it is), and escorts her to one of the shuttles.

"Riverside?" the shuttle driver asks, as he takes the duffel bag.

Carol nods.

"We should be leaving in just be a few minutes," he tells her.

She sits down, aware there are no other passengers on the shuttle, and that there will not be any other passengers on the shuttle. She just buckles herself in, pulls out her PADD, and spends the flight reading.

 

\- -- -

 

When the shuttle touches down, Carol gives the pilot a polite smile. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job," he says, but it's less frosty than when her medical officers had replied the same.

Carol had not been overly impressed with Riverside when the late Commander Marcus had taken her there as a little girl, and she still finds the plains of wheat underwhelming.

After everything, though, she's perfectly fine with being underwhelmed.

Riverside has plenty of rooms available, especially to Starfleet officers, but as officers are coming in to help with repairs, they're going quickly. She books one of the last single rooms, and she's pleased she gets it before handing over her identification.

In the room, she throws her belongings onto the foot of her bed, and follows a moment afterwards.

The _Enterprise_ is expected to take a year and a half for complete repairs (and a complete recovery for the crew), maybe even more, and she feels alright putting off visiting for a few days.

 

\- -- -

 

She spends the next week just wandering around Riverside, readjusting to walking, to being in civilian clothing, to being something other than a patient, to being someone other than the admiral's daughter. There's really not much to do in Riverside, other than sit at a coffee house with a PADD. She doesn't mind, though; more research on nanobiotechnologies and the healing available with them has been published, and she's enjoying catching up.

She's not the only one who frequents the coffee house, and she quickly gets acquainted with what feels like half the crew members. Lieutenants Uhura and Sulu, Ensign Chekov, Officer Darwin. They are far friendlier than anyone in San Francisco had been, and she finds out from Chekov that all of the late Commander Marcus' transmissions had been broadcasted shipwide, and that means her response to Commander Marcus had been too.

Although in some circumstances transmissions from highly stressful environments are studied by future generations on the command track, Carol guesses this will not be one of those cases.

She's quickly brought into the circle of gossip: Dr. Dehner has been assigned to the crew of the _Enterprise_ for the repairs, and maybe even the upcoming tour. Everyone is certain that they'll be selected for the five-year mission. The entire senior bridge command is back on the _Enterprise_ , including McCoy. Mr. Scott has declared he won't need more than fifteen months to have her ready to head back into space.

They're all friendly enough, and Carol doesn't have any reservations about boarding the _Enterprise_ , but she still spends another quiet day more in the cafe.

 

\- -- -

 

The _Enterprise_ had taken Carol's breath away when she had seen it from the shuttle window when she had first transferred over, and, even Earthbound and in disrepair, it takes her breath away again now.

She takes an elevator up to the lowest docking bay, and travels through the ship with turbolifts after that. They take slower, in Earth's gravity, just like how it feels different to walk around with actual gravity.

She doesn't mind though; it's nice to go around the ship with her only worry being whether or not Dr. McCoy will be in the medbay.

When she gets there, she sees a familiar face, but not the one she was expecting. "Christine?"

Christine looks up over a sleeping patient on a biobed, and smiles. "Carol," she greets, as she walks over.

"I thought you were on the Outer Frontier..."

"Dr. McCoy requested me," Christine replies.

There will be time to ask why, and catch up on everything else later, but for now, Carol is too happy to see her old roommate to care. She just takes a step closer and pulls Christine into a brief hug.

Only Christine keeps her arms around Carol, when Carol tries to pull back. "I'm sorry about what happened," she says, quietly, just into Carol's ear.

It makes her throat tighten up, and Carol falters. She allows herself to wrap her arms back around Christine, and cling to her for a moment, before pulling back, perfectly professional, and acutely aware of McCoy now checking the vitals of the sleeping patient near them.

"It's good to see you again," Carol tells her.

"Same," Christine replies.

"I should let you get back to work," Carol says, awkwardly, a moment later. "If Dr. McCoy requested you back, I probably shouldn't keep you."

"It's nothing life or death," Christine says, turning back to glance at the biobed, and she doesn't see Carol's wince. "Just a lot of small accidents in engineering, and other maintenance mishaps, but we're all under orders to be overcautious."

Carol winces, again, and this time Christine sees. Tactlessly changing the subject, she asks, "Where are you staying in Riverside? I haven't seen you around." 

"I've been in my quarters up here." Christine replies. "Why are you staying in Riverside?"

"I didn't know we could stay in our quarters."

Christine shrugs. "They've probably guessed that if we're all going to be spending five years in our quarters, we'd probably prefer to spend some time outside of them first. I'd rather get accustomed to my quarters, then travel for a few weeks, then go off for five years. Care to accompany me to Queensborough?"

Carol smiles. Christine has been suggesting they take a weekend off and abscond to Australia since their first set of midterms together. "I'll think about it," she says, as she always does.

Christine matches her grin, before she turns and returns to Dr. McCoy, who gives Carol a nod before resuming his work.

 

\- -- -

 

Carol is busy trying to remember how much of her bag she'll need to repack, that she's not paying too much attention to her surroundings, as she steps out of the elevator to the ground. From what she's noticed, staying in Riverside, this is the time of the afternoon when more people are leaving the _Enterprise_ than returning to it. As such, she nearly bumps into Kirk as she steps out.

She recovers, quickly, and gives him a smile. "Captain Kirk."

He looks pale, but he smiles back at her, wide and appreciative. "Lieutenant Marcus, it's good to see you."

"It's good to be here. Heading back to the _Enterprise_?"

He nods. "Meetings. Just got out of some this morning, and have a few more lined up for the afternoon."

Impulsively, she steps back into the elevator, before the doors hiss close. "I forgot I needed to check to see where my quarters were, before I collect my belongings," she says, at his inquiring look. "Have you been up since it started repairs?"

"I was one of the first people back on board," he tells her. He looks tense, for some reason, and paler than when she first saw him. His gaze is on the doors, now, and all remaining color drains from his face.

"I just saw Christine again," she starts, aiming for light conversation, but he's not paying any attention to her, his breathing going shallow. After a moment, he leans back against the wall, and slowly slides down to the floor.

Carol is kneeling beside him in an instant. “Captain? Captain Kirk?” she asks. Then, more firmly, “Jim.”

It takes a moment, but his gaze refocuses on her, and he blinks several times.

She presses a hand to the side of his face. “You’re alright,” she tells him, voice soft. His eyes flutter shut. It’s the closest she can get to reassuring without lying, so she repeats, “You’re alright.”

The doors hiss open, and Kirk’s eyes snap open, and lock on the figure behind Carol. She turns around, and sees Commander Spock staring down at the two of them, expression completely impassive.

Kirk rises easily to his feet. “Commander,” he greets.

“Captain--” Spock starts.

“Mr. Scott has requested you,” Kirk interrupts. “Report to engineering.”

Spock nods. The neutral expression on his face hasn't changed, but Carol almost feels like he's angry as he says, "Yes, Captain."

Kirk walks out of the turbolift, carefully moving so he doesn't brush Spock, and then he's striding down the corridor. Carol rises to her feet, her knee twinging in pain, and she gives Spock a polite, "Commander."

"Lieutenant," he replies.

"Excuse me," she says, edging past him. "Kirk?" she asks, as she catches up with him.

He gives her a tight smile. "I'm late for my meetings."

"I'll see you around the ship, though?"

"Yeah, see you around," he says.

Once more, Carol almost thinks he's telling the truth.

 

\- -- -

 

Mr. Scott is outraged that no one had informed him of Carol's doctorate in applied physics, and she's dragged down to Engineering to help. It's half past ten when she finally manages to makes it to the dining hall.

There's no one in the dining hall except for Kirk, who startles when she enters.

Carol doesn't waste time with being coy, and after getting a tart green apple from the replicator, she heads straight for him. She ends up a bit closer than planned, her left side pressed against his right.

"How were your meetings?"

"Long. How was spending the afternoon with Scotty?"

She spends a moment thinking it over. Finally, she settles on, "Mr. Scott is rather enthusiastic."

Kirk huffs a laugh at that. "You could say that."

They settle into a silence that isn't particularly comfortable, as Carol eats her apple, and Kirk stares down at his plate.

"About what happened earlier..." he starts, voice too casual. He hesitates, and then his voice is flat as he says, "I don't want to talk about it."

Carol understands. As good as the friendly atmosphere is, now that things have quieted down, she's starting to have her own memories of the last time she was onboard, and she'd really rather not think about them. 

And she can think of an enjoyable way to not think about it this evening. She slides her foot to run up along the inside of his ankle. It's an awkward angle, especially with her knee still sore. She doesn't think it's healing right, but she ignores it as she asks, "Would you rather not talk about it in your quarters or mine?"

And then she knows her knee isn't healing, hasn’t healed right, and it aches as she lowers herself down onto Kirk. She pumps herself up and down until serotonin and dopamine flood her system and cancel out the pain receptors.

 

\- -- -

 

Her knee doesn't stop aching all morning, and after lunch, she limps to the medbay.

It's the emptiest she's ever seen it, and although she should find that reassuring, it's also a small degree disconcerting. "No engineers?"

"Mr. Scott is running some diagnostics, he's giving engineering a day off, to all of our relief." He looks up at her. "This a social call, or did you need me to look at something for you?"

“My knee hurts,” she tells him.

He leads her to a biobed. "Hop on."

"I don't think hopping will help," she says, as she lifts herself up, and moves back on the bed.

He feels around her knee. The movements are cool and clinical, but his hands are warm. “It’s swollen,” he tells her. “Did you do anything to agitate it? Step wrong, or...?"

She feels her face heat up, slightly. “I was involved in some strenuous physical activity, last night.”

“As your doctor, I would advise finding some position to make any activities less strenuous,” he says, tone careful and clinical. "I can give you a hypo of cortisone, to help with the swelling."

"Thank you."

 

\- -- -

 

She doesn't mean to fall into a sexual relationship with Kirk, it just kind of happens. He's every bit as good as his reputation suggests, and it's an enjoyable coping mechanism for her.

And for him as well. After their second time, and the second time he doesn't immediately leave, he mumbles into the corner of her neck that he doesn't feel right in the captain's quarters.

He doesn’t go into detail, about that or any of the other dozen confessions (he almost walked out of the service for Pike he just couldn't bear the guilt, his mother found out what happened to him and was worried, Spock was offered a temporary post on the Bradbury, he's worried the transfusion might have long-term effects), and she doesn’t ask him to. They both know she won’t understand completely.

Just like he wouldn’t understand what it would be like to betrayed by a father, to look at the list of the dead and know it's all the fault of the man who raised her; that she doesn't know how much of her knee pain is physical and how much is psychosomatic, that she worries about the fact it's not healing. 

Just like nobody else understands the difficulties of being the most heavily-scrutinized members of the _Enterprise_ , of having the ever-present shadow of a father's legacy over their head, of looking at the list of the dead and feeling guilty even though they both know intellectually that they did everything within their power to keep as many crew members as safe as possible.

There are some nights when they don't fuck, where he's fatigued from having to deal with the backlash against Starfleet officers and she's fatigued from spending hours helping engineering, and they both fall asleep minutes after lying down; but more often than not they have difficulty sleeping, and it's a way to cope.

 

\- -- -

 

Weeks pass, and Carol spends her days being stolen by various Engineering officers, her lunches talking with Christine ("It's going to be awkward once you break up," is all she says on the matter), and sometimes with McCoy (who says absolutely nothing on the matter), and then she spends her nights in a less strenuous position.

She sleeps soundly through the nights, but she still finds herself being tired most of the time.

 

\- -- -

 

They're trying to work through a problem they've had for a week straight now, and are on their sixth attempt. It's a bit beyond Carol's expertise, but Engineers like to keep Science Officers on hand (or vice versa, Carol hasn't been able to tell), so she sticks around.

There's an excited yell of "You're a genius!"

And then Engineer Gesset is placing his hands on either side of Science Officer Riley's face, and pulling his head down to kiss him on the forehead.

Everyone gathers around them, trying to get in on the discovery, but Carol finds herself frozen to the spot, barely able to breathe. She knows what she just saw was a harmless gesture of affection, but she can't help the replay of Khan's hands on either side of her father's face, slowly crushing.

She gets up, gives a passing lieutenant an, "Excuse me for a minute," and walks away.

The memories have regained their edge. She remembers the outline of the bridge, no longer blurred into one shadow. She remembers limp bodies in navy uniforms on the floor. She remembers Khan, looming over her father, his hands on her father's face. Her father's expression, in her line of sight, looking horrified. Knowing there was nothing she could do.

She remembers the manic edge to Khan's voice, the slow cracking sound, remembers her knee pulsating in pain.

It replays in her head.

Khan's pale hands.

The look of horror.

Her own fear.

The gradual then sharp crack.

She finds herself in the medbay at the door to McCoy's office, and finds him talking to Dr. Dehner.

"Everything alright, Lieutenant?" Dr. Dehner asks, the barest hint of a frown on her face.

"Fine," she breathes out, although she's pretty sure she's shaking. "My knee hurts, I don't want to travel back up to my quarters, would it be alright if were to lie down? Just for a few minutes?"

"Do you want me to look at it?" McCoy asks, sounding concerned.

She shakes her head. If anyone touches her knee, she is going to scream.

 

\- -- -

 

She's not surprised when she's asked in for another psych evaluation.

 

\- -- -

 

Carol finds it difficult to return to Engineering, and instead spends time around the Science Officer consoles.

Spock finds her research fascinating, and the half hour before she leaves for lunch is spent discussing it.

He's almost the exact opposite of Mr. Scott, showing no degree of enthusiasm to his work, and keeping personal asides out of conversation.

She's heading towards the door, getting ready to meet Christine for lunch, when she notices the lack of farewell comment. She frowns, and turns back around. Spock is standing there, gaze still trained on her.

"Is there anything else you will be needing, Mr. Spock?" she asks.

He appears to hesitate, before he starts, “Actually, Dr. Marcus, if I could speak on a more personal matter...”

Carol waits for him to continue, more surprised at his hesitation than anything else.

“It has come to my awareness that you and Captain Kirk have become... close. As I have not been able to speak to him on a personal level since the incident with Khan, I was wondering, is he well?”

“He’s fine.”

“Fine has no clear definition, and as such does not answer my query. How is Captain’s Kirk health?”

“He’s healed perfectly since--” she starts, but she cuts herself off. “Since the transfusion.”

“Although there is reason to inquire as to his physical health, and I am glad that he is not facing any ailments following the procedure, I was... am... more concerned over his mental wellbeing.”

Carol stares at him. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard of a concerned Vulcan before. She’s not surprised, though; in the months she's been on the _Enterprise_ , she's been caught up to date on everything from how Kirk had gained his captaincy, to the incident on Nibiru.

“He’s as well as you might expect,” she says, simply.

"Given the stress he must be going through, both personally and professionally, and as well as the fact he has been avoiding personal interactions with myself and Lieutenant Uhura, I do not expect him to be well at all."

"He's as well as you might expect," she just repeats.

 

\- -- -

 

They're lying shoulder to shoulder, afterwards, when Carol says, “Spock was asking about you, earlier today. He was expressing his concern over your wellbeing.”

Jim rolls away from her, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Is there any reason why you haven’t talked to him in the past six weeks?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about? Or not talk about?” she asks. She admits that she's curious -- usually they understand what each other is talking about, even if they don't actually talk about it. But she's completely at a loss for what his problem is, as well as for the fact that, for the first time, he's slipping back into his pants.

"Jim," she says. They don't do this -- they don't try and fix each other. "What's wrong?"

He stands still for a long minute. He doesn't turn to face her as he says, “He watched me die."

“You’ve talked to Mr. Scott, and he was there, wasn’t he?”

“That’s different,” Jim says, running a hand over his face. After a minute, voice raw, he says, “I told him I wanted him to know why I couldn’t let him die. He didn’t -- he didn’t _know_.”

"He told you that?"

Jim bends down, and picks his shirt up from the floor. "He told me it's because he's my friend."

"Aren't you?"

"Yeah. But that wasn't my reason."

And then he pulls on his shirt and leaves.

 

\- -- -

 

The next night, she isn't surprised when he doesn't return.

 

\- -- -

 

The next morning, though, she is surprised by his ship-wide transmission.

“This is Captain James Kirk. To all Starfleet officers in the Riverside area, I want you to report to the bar on Main Street at 2000 hours. We are going to go out and drink. A lot. And then we're going to tell everyone everything we've been meaning to but haven't. This is not mandatory by any means, but it is highly encouraged. Also, I'm paying for drinks. Kirk out."

 

\- -- -

The bar is absolutely packed when Carol enters at 2100, and the walls are nearly vibrating from the thump of the bass. She passes a lot of crew mates, and is surprised that she knows almost all of them by name.

Uhura has two drinks in her hand, and she almost passes Carol. "Just got here?" she asks, raising her voice perfectly over the music.

Carol nods.

Uhura hands her one of her drinks, then disappears into the mass of bodies on the dance floor.

Carol quickly takes the shot Uhura handed her and looks around to the bar, to see if she can get more.

She's three shots in before she starts looking around the bar, and sees a table where Sulu is pushing at McCoy's shoulder, before leaving the table. As Sulu passes her onto the dance floor, while she heads to McCoy, she raises her voice and asks, "Not a big dancer?"

"I'm here to drink," McCoy replies, raising his glass and pointedly taking a drink of it. "And to drink only," he adds, setting the glass back down on the table.

Carol nods. "Mind if I sit with you?" she asks, hoping he'll be able to hear her over the noise.

"It'll be easier to hear," he replies, and then she takes her seat next to him.

"Jim sent this over a Starfleet channel -- isn't it likely he's going to get yelled at for this?" Carol asks.

"We're on something similar to shore leave, and there's no rules against getting drunk while on that," he tells her. "Or at least it's what the crazy bastard told me. He can talk his way out of anything, if anyone tries to pin him down for it."

Carol nods. "But honestly, everyone looks a lot more relaxed. I think we needed this." She's only four shots in, but they're strong, and she feels loose in a way she hasn't in a while. Also, a bit dizzy, and off-balance, but she solves it by leaning into McCoy -- Leonard, she tells herself. He's off duty.

He's staring off at something, and she turns her head to see what he's looking at-- it's Jim, at the bar, chatting with one of the few women who isn't immediately recognizable, and probably isn't on the crew of the _Enterprise_.

"You two over?" he asks, nodding his head towards Jim.

"It was nothing," Carol tells him.

"It was four and a half months."

"You counted?" she asks. Not even she had known the exact dates of it. But he's still staring at her, so she shrugs. "I used him for sex to deal with my overwhelming issues, and he was doing the same. The feeling -- or lack of -- was mutual. I'm glad he can find someone else."

McCoy just shakes his head, as if he doesn't believe it.

She peers up at him. "You never had a good fuck buddy?"

"Four and a half months is more than that." He shakes his head again. "There was Jocelyn, and there was Nancy, and that's been it."

"It?" Carol repeats. She blinks a few times, pulling away from him, and asks, "You've only had sex with two women?"

He scoffs. "I'm a doctor, Carol, not a saint. They're the only two I've been in a relationship with for over four months."

"You know--"

And then Jim is nearly crash landing at their table, a dazed look on his face.

"You okay?" McCoy asks, raising an eyebrow. He looks like Spock when he does that, and Carol can't help the slight giggle.

"I'm fine," Jim replies.

"If I hear the word 'fine' one more time, I swear to god--"

"I'm just a bit confused," Jim corrects, raising an appeasing hand. "I've lost count of how many crew members have come up to me, hugged me, and told me they're glad I'm still alive."

"We're all drunk and maudlin, what were you expecting? Everyone to come up to you and tell you that you're a horrible captain, and they wish you had died?"

Jim is silent.

"That's your cue to disagree with me," McCoy says, jabbing a finger at him.

"That's not exactly how I'd phrase it--"

"Damnit, man, if I thought it would do any good, I would be shaking some sense into you right now. Spock,” McCoy says, loudly, and Carol glances up to see Spock is standing right behind Jim, “can you try and knock some sense into him?”

Jim turns around, posture going stiff.

“As it were,” Spock tells Leonard, before he looks down at Jim and continues, “I was hoping to speak to you.”

Spock looks perfectly composed, and Carol has steadily been leaning more and more into Leonard, and she feels vaguely accusatory as she asks, “Why aren't you drunk?” 

“He can’t get drunk, he’s Vulcan, alcohol doesn’t intoxicate them.”

“Nyota said it would be against the spirit of the gathering to remain unaffected, and she has found something to properly inebriate me. I told her that I would prefer to stay in control of my better judgement for the upcoming conversation, but she reiterated that it would be against the spirit of the gathering."

"Nyota?" Carol asks.

"Uhura," Leonard tells her.

"Jim, please, I believe it would be for the best that we talk."

Jim stares at him, then turns back to Leonard, grabs his bourbon, and finishes it. "Alright," he announces, getting to his feet. He sways, and immediately Spock's hand is on his elbow, steadying him. "Let's get this over with."

“We won’t wait up,” Carol mumbles to herself, watching them leave.

Leonard laughs, then yells for another bourbon.

It takes a few minutes for her to get back to their prior conversation.

“You do realize that we’re all going to be together for five years?” she asks. "All on the same ship? You're basically going to be in a five year relationship with all of us, whether you like it or not."

He looks down at her, then gruffly tells his new glass of bourbon, “Could be worse."

She smiles into his shoulder.

 

\- -- -

 

Carol passes her next psych evaluation with flying colors, and the same for her basic physical.

When she moves to get up from the biobed, though, the nurse says, "Now if you would please wait for Dr. McCoy, he would like to have a word with you."

"If I have a clean bill of health, why do I need to talk to Dr. McCoy?"

"He has insisted on talking to all officers with prior injuries."

Her knee aches as she walks further into the med bay.

He instructs her to hop up on a biobed, and then he's at her side. "How's the knee?"

Carol stares at the ceiling for a long moment before she says, "Not fine." 

He's quiet as he feels around her knee, pressing in deeper than he usually does. “It didn’t heal right,” he tells her, a deep frown on his face. "I'm sorry, I should have ordered bed rest immediately afterwards, instead of letting you help. But even then, the healing chamber should have repairing any damage..." he trails off, as he heads over to the monitors.

Carol continues to stare quietly up at the ceiling. She wants to cry, and she doesn't know why. She just places a hand over her eyes, and focusing on breathing.

"Well, that explains it," McCoy says, voice sharp.

She rests her hand back on her abdomen, as he returns to her bedside, scanning a tricoder over her knee.

"The elite Starfleet medical officers all thought it would be a good idea to prolong your time in the chamber, thinking that it would prolong your recovery, so they could keep you bedridden. And yeah, it healed the impact fracture, but it didn't do anything for the avulsion fracture, or the ligaments behind the patella. And it sure as hell didn't heal the patella right -- the damn thing's rotated a few degrees, but they didn't bother doing any tricorder scans to check. I'm surprised you've been walking as well as you have."

"Is there anything you can do?" 

"Your knee could recovery completely, if you were to go through the chamber again, with it on the proper settings, to make sure the break would heal correctly."

Carol pushes herself so she's leaning back on her palms. "But it would need to be broken again."

"We have the scans of your knee, and equipment that can replicate it exactly, but yeah. If we want your knee to heal back to normal, we'd need to break your patella again."

“Are you sure it’d be a good idea to go through the chamber again?”

“I sent eight officers through with broken arms, ribs, and even legs. They’ve all made full recoveries.” He pauses. “Unless you would rather have it heal naturally? Since it’s the second time the area has been broken, it will take longer to heal. And I can't, as your doctor, recommend that we leave it as it is -- it hasn't affected your mobility too badly, but given time, it will just get more and more aggravated."

She stares down at her knee. She's tired of it being in pain. “Are you sure the chamber will work, this time?”

“I’ll oversee it myself,” he says, coming in closer. He places a hand on her knee, and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I should have seen there was something wrong with this whole situation back in the beginning, and I am sorry."

"You were worried about Jim," she tells him. "We all were."

"Jim isn't the only member of the crew."

"He's your friend."

"He's not my only friend."

"He's your only best friend," she points out, finally looking away from his hand up to him. "It's alright."

His mouth presses into a thin line, but he doesn't argue. "I've got a few more crew members to look over, but I'll book you for this evening, if you want to go through with this."

She's tired of being in pain. "I'll see you then."

 

\- -- -

 

Carol shows up at McCoy's office later that night, to her surprise.

Christine has taken her vacation to and is traveling through Thailand, leaving Dr. M'Benga as McCoy's assistant. She's had a few conversations with him, when Christine was running late, and she likes him. 

"Do you want the painkillers before the break or after it?"

"Is there any reason it would be after?"

"I've had patients get queasy, when they feel their bone break, but don't _feel_ it. They usually respond worse to the break, if anything."

Just thinking about feeling her patella fracture makes her stomach turn. "After."

"I'll be ready on it," McCoy promises.

"I've got everything set up -- it's not a routine procedure, but it's not the strangest thing I've done in this lab. Steadiest hands on the ship, it's going to go perfectly. Do you want me to press the button, or do you want me over with you?"

"I'd rather you were here," she says.

"Alright," he replies, and he sits down at her bedside, and cups one of her hands in his. "You ready?"

"Ready."

"And don't worry," he tells her. "In all my years, I've heard every swear imaginable, been covered in every bodily fluid you can think of, and had my body squeezed in all types of pain reactions. Nearly had a guy sprain my wrist, once. Do whatever you need to."

"In three..." M'Benga starts.

She squeezes Leonard's hand, but she keeps her mouth clamped shut as pain erupts in her knee. It's not as bad when she's expecting it, and the immediate hypospray of pain killers quickly numbs it.

"Break successful," M'Benga says. "I'll go double-check the chamber."

Leonard reaches his free hand over, and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "How you holding up?"

"It's been worse," she says. She can't feel any of the pain, but her body is thrumming with adrenaline from the break, and she can't let go of Leonard's hand.

"I can give you a mild sedative -- it may make the chamber easier, if you're conscious to feel it."

"Works for me," she replies. She spends a moment willing herself to let go of his hand. It only takes a moment before there's a sharp pinch to her neck, and the hum of adrenaline quickly dies down. "Thanks," she mumbles.

Leonard is back at her side, and he looks at her in a way she can't describe. "Jim said you cried out last time."

"That was last time."

"It's alright, no one would have blamed you for it."

"Don't want to cry in front of anyone," she tells him, sluggishly. It makes her feel weak, has always made her feel weak.

 

\- -- -

 

She wakes up, a couple hours later, head foggy, knee in a brace.

M'Benga is by her side, looking at her vitals.

"Where's Leonard?" she asks, still feeling drowsy.

"On a call to the head of Starfleet Medical," M'Benga says. "And there's nothing you can do to make me interrupt that call. He's ordered three days of bed rest for you, and ordered me to make sure you don't get out of bed."

"I won't," she replies, and promptly falls back asleep.

 

\- -- -

 

She spends most of the next three days sleeping, and when she wakes up, she feels rested for the first time in a long time.

"You should be completely healed," Leonard tells her. "I'm still not taking the leg brace off for another two days, minimum."

"Can I walk now?" she asks.

He frowns, slightly. "I don't recommend it," he says, pointedly.

She takes that as a yes, and pushes the sheets off her, and swings her legs over the bed. Again, she touches her bare feet down onto the cool tile. It takes her a moment for her to feel balanced enough to take her hands off the bed, to stand on her own two feet.

“How do you feel?” he asks, worried, taking a step towards her.

“It still hurts,” she tells him. “But it feels better.”

“I don't recommend staying on it for long periods of time.”

She nods, and walks over to him, and stands next to him for a moment. He looks at her expectantly, so she tells him, “It feels sore, but it doesn’t hurt, like it did.”

He smiles at her, tired but happy. "I'm glad." There's a pause, then he adds, "Now get back into bed."

 

\- -- -

 

She's off the brace in two days, and scheduled for a follow-up, the next week -- but she's needed for something, and she ends up arriving at the medbay far later than its usual hours.

She heads to Leonard's office, and she overhears some loud voices, what sounds like him pleading, and then a gruff goodbye.

No one exits the office in the next few moments, though, and she carefully approaches, and knocks on the door.

"Everything alright?" she asks.

Leonard has a stormy expression on his face, and is pouring himself a glass of an amber liquid. His gaze flicks up to her, but he doesn't reply.

He's not telling her to get out, so enters his office, and sits down across from him. "Vidcall?"

"You heard that," he says, somewhere between a remark and a question. He knocks back his glass, winces, then says, "That was my ex-wife. Her aunt's having some health issues, she may not be able to bring Joanna out before we leave next month."

"Oh," Carol says.

"I saw her, twice, this whole time. The month after everything happened, and a couple of weeks ago. And at Starfleet, only really got to saw her twice a year, and she's used to that. But we'll be gone for five years, and I'd like to see at least once more."

He pours himself another shot, and downs it just as fast.

Carol rarely finds herself in a position where she needs to offer comfort, and she's unsure of how exactly to proceed. "Is there anything I can...?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Jim'll be here in a minute to perform his sacred duty of helping me finish this bottle while listening to me complain."

Carol stands up. "If it makes you feel any better, my leg is healing perfectly."

He looks up at her, amazed. "It does," he says, voice awed.

She smiles down at him, exits his office, and nearly bumps into Jim.

"Carol," he says, and it's obvious he wasn't expecting to see her. They haven't really seen each other on off-hours since he moved back into his own quarters. His smile is slightly strained, and he looks like he's about to start a very awkward round of small chat.

"Take care of him," she says. She turns to walk away, but pauses. Over her shoulder, she says, "And if you say you'll see me around without following up on it, I will slap you."

She exits the medbay to him laughing.

 

\- -- -

 

Time flies, even faster with her knee working, and the ship slowly comes together, and they slowly approach an estimation for take-off.

 

\- -- -

 

There's a memorial service.

There are also a crowd of reporters.

Carol passes by them with her _Enterprise_ crew mates by her side.

It goes about as well as she expected.

 

\- -- -

 

Afterwards is a reception, for Starfleet personnel, and a few respected members of the press.

There's a bar, and an impressive spread of refreshments, but Carol doesn't think it would do any good to get a drink, and her stomach is too tied in knots to eat.

One by one, all of the admirals come up to her. 

They all say the same thing -- that he was a good man, and they're sorry for what happened. Every admiral says _was_ different -- some meant he was a good man until he created Section 31, until he employed John Harrison, until he lost any sense of accountability. Some meant, and genuinely think, that he was a good man, right to the end.

Carol isn't sure which group she agrees with.

She's looking around for exits, when she sees Jim in the corner of the room, being hugged by his mother. She spends a few moments, watching, annoyed, before turning to survey the rest of the room.

Leonard sidles up to her, halfway through her trying to figure out which exit to use. "You holding up alright?"

"I'm just fine, Dr. McCoy," she says, voice bright.

He gives her a disbelieving look. He has a small plate with few orange segments and a few slices of a green apple on it, and he holds it out to her.

"I'm not hungry," she says, stomach clenching at the thought of food.

"To the untrained eye, you look perfectly fine," he tells her. "But if you want to talk, I'm here."

She turns to him, but before she can think of what to reply, there's a boisterous, "Dr. McCoy!"

They turn to see a commander coming up to them -- Carol can't name him, she hasn't been keeping track -- and give them a wide smile. "Lieutenant Marcus," he says, politely, before turning back to Leonard. "I would like to talk to you about some of your medical discoveries over the past year..."

"A lot of it is classified," Leonard replies, sounding annoyed, but he lets himself get pulled away.

Carol heads towards the exit opposite of the one Jim had ducked out of, followed by Spock, and finds her path blocked by Admiral Rawlings.

She draws herself up straighter. "Admiral."

"Lieutenant," she replies. "I heard your leg's been healed properly, this time around. Not quite a speedy recovery, but I'm glad you got there."

"Thank you, Admiral."

"I won't keep you," she says dryly, before she sets a hand down on Carol's shoulder. "But I just wanted to tell you that you have been performing admirably, and you should be proud of yourself."

Carol blinks, hard. "Thank you, Admiral," she repeats, keeping her voice even. When she's gone off and acknowledged another officer, Carol goes to the exit that much quicker.

 

\- -- -

 

It's eleven at night, the night before they ship back out to Riverside, and she knocks unannounced at his hotel room door. She almost wishes he wouldn't open the door, and when he does, she bites her lip. “Dr. McCoy?” Then she corrects, “Leonard?”

“What can I help you with?” he asks.

“We’re heading out to the Riverside port, tomorrow, so we can head up to space. Before that, though, there’s somewhere I need to go, and I... I don’t want to go alone," she admits. "I know it’s late, and I shouldn’t be asking this of you--”

He holds up a hand. “None of that, we’re friends. Where are we going?”

 

\- -- -

 

Carol stares down at her father’s tombstone.

It gives his full name, date of birth, date of death, and nothing else. No rank, no epithet, no flowers resting up against the white marble.

It’s late at night, and the breeze is chilly off the bay, and Carol shivers.

“I never said anything, never had the chance to,” Leonard starts, quietly, “but I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m ashamed that he was my father,” she says, voice wavering slightly. It’s been nearly a year, but she perfectly remembers the faint stirrings of suspicion, the horror at his transmission, the fear of who he had become. “But I still loved him.”

“He was your father.”

Carol reaches up and starts wiping at the tears. “He was a war-mongering, power-mad _murderer_ \-- it was entirely his fault that so many of his officers died, none of this should have happened.” 

“I’m not going to argue that. But he was still your father.” Even quieter, he adds, “You’re allowed to mourn him.”

She raises one hand up to cover her mouth, the other wrapping around herself. “After everything that happened, I feel like I shouldn’t.”

Leonard places a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you’ve spent the past year bottling this up. As a doctor, and as a friend, I'm tell you, don't."

She shakes her head. “I don’t like crying front of people."

“It makes you feel weak, I know. But you’re not weak, you’re human,” he tells her, pulling her into his arms.

Carol pulls her hand out from between them, and wraps her arms around his neck, and lets herself cry. “He loved me. And even after what he did, and even though I didn’t want to, I still loved him,” she grits out, unable to help her breath from hitching. And that’s all she’s able to get out, before her throat becomes too tight to speak.

He holds her as she cries, hand rubbing her back, murmuring soft platitudes, until her sobs die down, and she’s left sniffling into the crook of his neck.

“This is not how I planned this,” she says, tiredly. “I wanted to come here, and say goodbye, and walk away.”

“It looks like you're almost there.”

Carol slowly pulls back away from the embrace, and looks down at her father’s grave. It’s not as difficult as it was when they first arrived, and her breathing finally comes easier. She takes another moment to look at the grave, before she nods, and turns and walks away.  
 “You alright?” Leonard asks, as they arrive back at the hovercar.

Carol stares through the windshield for a long moment, before she says, “I’m hungry.”

He makes a noise that may be a laugh. “Want to see if there’s any late-night diners near by?”

 

\- -- -

 

There’s one on the bay that's open until two in the morning. It’s old and worn down, with a fake retro theme to it, and the vinyl booth they sit down at has been repaired multiple times.

“You doing alright?”

“About as well as can be expected,” she says, mostly to herself than to Leonard. Her eyes have been throbbing the entire way here, and she doesn’t think she can cry anymore. “I’m dealing with my father, and will be dealing with that for a while. But my mother hasn’t spoken to me since I refused to go to his service, and I feel... lonely, and like I’ll be lonely for the rest of my life.”

“You’ve still got us, on the _Enterprise_.” He’s quiet for a long moment, before he says, “Five year relationship, remember?”  
 She smiles.

His comm chirps, and she waves away his apologetic expression as he answers.

“Bones,” comes Jim’s voice.

“Whatdya want?” he asks, sound irritable, but his expression is fond.

“It’s our last night on Earth, want to grab something to eat?”

“One step ahead of you, and no you’re not invited.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, sounding confused. “Wait, you’re not -- you’re not on a date, are you?”

“Not exactly,” he says, haltingly.

“Not exactly? Who -- it's Carol, isn't it?"

"That's none of your goddamn business."

Jim laughs on the other end. "I knew it. Watch out for her, she's a heartbreaker."

"Excuse us, Captain Kirk," Carol says, as their waiter approaches, "but our food's just arrived. Perhaps Leonard could call you back after?"

Jim laughs even harder, as Leonard angrily shuts the comm. "He's going to be insufferable after this," he mutters, gruffly.

"We can worry about that later," she replies, before she digs into her food.

 

\- -- -

 

And then they're preparing for take-off.

Carol is at her station, feeling a hum of contentment as she double-checks everything.

"Captain on the bridge," Chekov chirps.

Jim goes around, the happiest she's seen him in a while, trading quips with a few of the crew.

"Dr. Marcus!" he greets, a bit too cheery, but his smile is genuine. "I'm glad you can be part of the family."

She smiles at him. "It's nice to have a family."

**Author's Note:**

> _Contrary to what we may have been taught to think, unnecessary and unchosen suffering wounds us but need not scar us for life. It does not mark us. What we allow the mark of our suffering to become is in our own hands._


End file.
